


A Cold Spell for the Worst Witch

by Cliotheproclaimer



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Cold, Curses, F/F, Hecate Hardbroom is repressed, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mildred Hubble is in danger, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14231826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliotheproclaimer/pseuds/Cliotheproclaimer
Summary: When Mildred comes down with a bad case of Hubble flu, she doesn't expect much sympathy from Miss Hardbroom, who for some reason is more irritable with her than ever. What happens over the next twenty-four hours, however, will change their relationship for good - and perhaps change a few more things in the life of her austere potions mistress.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a sickfic, and then escalated wildly...updates will be every other day.

It was often remarked of the pioneering ancestor of Miss Cackle’s who had built the Academy that she must have been brought up in the arctic. Only someone used to temperatures well below freezing could _possibly_ have constructed a castle whose very flagstones seemed to exude cold. Surely, it was thought, one of those fierce and formidable Cackles of old could have imbued the old bricks with a warming spell, or even a simple draught-banishment enchantment. But no such luck, of course. Even as Easter approached, and pale sunlight began to filter in through the arrowslit windows, the girls could be found fighting for the spot closest to the fireplace, or enchanting mufflers to keep their owner’s hands warm as toast. 

Woe betide any girl who was caught complaining about the cold by a teacher, however. It was peculiar to the constitution of the academy that all of its teachers seemed to regard cold weather not as something to be guarded against, but as something invaluable in moulding the minds and spirits of young girls. Miss Drill would blow her whistle and send any shivering girl with nothing to do on a cross country run along the mountainside, whilst Miss Bat would insist there was nothing better for the cold than a long session of chanting, and would pull an entire groaning form into extra lessons.

Miss Hardbroom, as a human icicle herself (or so the bitter remarks of third-years went), was utterly impervious to the cold. Any girl caught attempting to increase the temperature in her bedroom or common room would find herself transported to instantaneous detention, and no sooner was a heating spell found, it was confiscated.

Mildred was normally fine with the cold. Long, wet holidays with her mother in North Wales, huddled in a caravan with more leaks than a sieve, had made her somewhat impervious to the chill. But that morning, she had woken slowly to a pounding head and a dry mouth, all aching and shivery. Her fingers had been slow and stupid as she’d done up her plaits, fumbling with the braids until she had been forced to give up. Tabby had meowed at her anxiously, rubbing his cheek against Mildred’s arm, and Mildred couldn’t help but agree. She had all the symptoms of Hubble flu, and it was with that realisation that she sat a little miserably on her bed.

 At home, the Hubble flu meant a sleepy day on the sofa, watching Doctor Who and sipping at mugs of hot, sweet tea. At Cackle’s Academy, however…

‘Millie!’ Enid and Maud burst into her room.

‘You weren’t at breakfast!’

‘Come on, we’re going to be late, and it’s double potions to boot.’ Mildred groaned at Maud’s last words.

‘I really don’t feel very well.’ She muttered. ‘Can you tell HB I’m sick?’ Maud and Enid exchanged somewhat guilty glances, and Mildred narrowed her eyes at them.

‘What?”

‘it’s just…’ Enid said hesitantly. ‘You remember last week, when you were helping Beatrice Bunch clear up the shrubbery tempest?’ Mildred nodded, wishing that Enid wouldn’t speak quite so loudly. ‘Well, HB came looking for you in break, and we told her that you had a Belladonna fever from chasing Tabby into the herb garden.’ 

‘It was very effective.’ Maud piped up. ‘We even got Clarice to lie in your bed and pretend to be you when HB checked in your doorway. She really got into character.’

‘But Miss Hardbroom’s never going to believe me now.’ Mildred sighed. ‘Oh crumbs. I don’t know how I’m going to brew anything today, my head’s jammed with cotton wool.’

‘We’ll help you out.’ Enid said, assertively. ‘It’ll be okay Mil, trust me.’ Mildred nodded again, tiredly, looking from one hopeful face to another.

‘Alright. Just let me grab my things.’

 

HB was in a particularly venomous mood that morning. She prowled from one desk to another, hissing out instructions in an almost inaudible voice, glaring at the cauldrons as if each one was personally offensive to her. Even Ethel fell victim to the steely gaze of the Potions mistress, and ceased teasing Mildred about her half-formed plaits to concentrate more fully on her dreaming draught.

 Meanwhile, Mildred couldn’t even keep her eyes focused on the ingredients. They seemed to blur in front of her, and Miss Hardbroom’s instructions melted into the buzzing in her ears.

 “Mildred!” Maud hissed, and Mildred felt a sharp elbow in her side. She blinked, slowly. ‘Yarrow-root, Mildred!’

 ‘Oh, right.’ Mildred nodded sleepily, fingers shaking as set the long root on the chopping board and attempted to slice it with the knife.

 Predictably, the knife slipped, and board and root clattered to the floor.

 ‘ _Mildred Hubble._ ’ Mildred looked up to see Miss Hardbroom towering over her, gaze iced over. ‘Come out from behind your desk, please.’

 Looking anxiously from side to side at her friends, Mildred walked slowly out from behind her desk, the throbbing in her head getting worse with each step.

 ‘Miss Hardbroom…’

 ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing in my class, looking like _that_?’ Miss Hardbroom jabbed her fingernail at Mildred. ‘Is the dress code perhaps one more time-honoured rule at Cackle’s that you consider yourself exempt from obeying?’ At Miss Hardbroom’s sarcastic tone, Mildred realised that her sash and tie were missing.

 ‘S-sorry Miss Hardbroom.’ She stammered. Miss Hardbroom narrowed her eyes.

 ‘Not as sorry as you will be. Front of the class, now.’ Mildred dragged her feet, dreading the worst. She heard Maud call,

 ‘Miss Hardbroom, Mildred’s ill!’ 

 ‘She is, Miss Hardbroom, honestly!’ Miss Hardbroom’s frown deepened.

 ‘If you have been in the herb garden again…’

 ‘It’s flu.’ Mildred got out.

 Miss Hardbroom walked smartly up to the front, where Mildred was now standing, and placed a hand on her forehead.

 ‘Hmm, no temperature.’ She pronounced. ‘You seem perfectly fine to me, Mildred. Now, since you seem to be incapable even of chopping ingredients for your dreaming draught, you can recite its properties to the class whilst they make their potions.’

 Mildred nodded miserably, too tired for her lack of temperature to register much. Besides, Miss Hardbroom was right, she didn’t feel hot, she felt _cold_.

 ‘The twelve properties of a dreaming draught.’ Mildred began. ‘The combination of henbane and copper allows for earthly desires to be suspended. Because the yarrow root is picked at midnight under a full moon, the subject feels weightless.’ Mildred’s legs began to tremble, her body suddenly much too heavy for them. ‘The subject…the subject…oh please Miss Hardbroom, could I have a chair?’

 Miss Hardbroom had her back to Mildred, overseeing Felicity’s bubbling draught.

 ‘And a blanket, and a pillow I suppose, Mildred?’ Mildred closed her eyes, tried to ignore how the buzzing in her head was now drowning out most of her own thoughts, and continued.

 ‘The counter-clockwise direction of…of…’ The world was going black around the corners, and the buzzing turned into the roaring of the sea as she felt her legs buckle and give way beneath her.

 

Later on, the other second years would tell her that they had no idea how HB could possibly have reacted so fast. Mildred had seemed to be plummeting towards the ground, when suddenly Miss Hardbroom had materialised and caught her, lowering them both gently to the floor.

Mildred couldn’t remember falling, only felt the world begin to piece back together a little as a cool, clear voice pierced the blackness.

 ‘You’re alright. You’re alright.’

 Mildred blinked, and felt strong arms supporting her back and helping her sit up. When her eyes fluttered open, she found Miss Hardbroom calmly kneeling beside her, and the rest of the class crowded round anxiously. Mildred’s heart began to race, and she let out a small sob.

 ‘Millie!’

 ‘Mil we thought…’

 ‘That’s enough.’ Miss Hardbroom said smoothly. Perhaps it was just her dizziness, but she thought that there was a little tremor in her teacher’s voice. ‘Class is dismissed. No need to clear up.’ Bewildered, the class filed out, until only Maud and Enid were left.

 ‘You too, girls.’ Miss Hardbroom told them, not unkindly. ‘Mildred will be fine.’ With beseeching looks at Mildred, the two girls trudged out of the classroom.

 Miss Hardbroom raised her hand.

 ‘No, don’t transfer us!’ Mildred begged. ‘I’ll be sick, honest.’

 ‘Well, we certainly don’t want that.’ Miss Hardbroom sighed, lowering her hand and using it to help Mildred sit up a little better. ‘How do you feel?’

 ‘A bit dizzy.’ Mildred tried to keep her voice from wobbling. ‘And cold.’ As she said that, an icy breeze seemed to brush over her, and she shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. She felt Miss Hardbroom’s hand against her forehead again, and then Miss Hardbroom helped her stand up, guiding her into a chair.

 ‘I shall make you an influenza potion.’ She said, going to her shelves and picking out ingredients. ‘Really, this is a potion you and your friends should be capable of making yourselves by now.’

 Mildred didn’t reply, and instead she rested her head on the desk, trying to ease the throbbing there. In doing so, she noticed Miss Hardbroom’s hands shaking infinitesimally as she chopped rosemary.

 ‘Did I give you a fright?’ She asked, faintly.

 ‘Don’t be absurd.’ Miss Hardbroom retorted almost instantaneously, like a reflex. But a few seconds later she said in a softer voice. ‘Still, I suppose it’s not every day you turn around to see your pupil tumbling down like an autumn leaf.’ Silence fell as Miss Hardbroom ground the ingredients and waved a hand over them. As she performed the incantation silently. Mildred couldn’t help but speak up.

 ‘It’s just Hubble flu. Mum says Hubbles have one three-day period a year where we’re totally incapacitated by germs, and then we’re right as rain for the rest of the year.’

 ‘What you lack in magical pedigree you make up for in repetitive illness.’ Miss Hardbroom quipped, bringing the potion to a boil and stirring first counter-clockwise then three times clockwise, in a manner that was making Mildred feel quite sleepy. ‘You really haven’t a temperature though. One would assume that is a normal side effect of…Hubble flu?’ She stressed the last two words disdainfully.

 ’Thirty-eight degrees on day one, just above normal on day two, normal on day three.’ Mildred mumbled indistinctly, head on her arms. Miss Hardbroom glanced up at her, sharply.

‘You’re not falling asleep, are you?’ Mildred blinked out of her doze.

 ‘Nope.’ She replied firmly, rubbing her eyes. ‘Definitely awake. Definitely awake.’ Miss Hardbroom strained the potion into a flask, and handed it to Mildred, who wrinkled her nose.

 ‘Ugh, it smells worse than lemsip!’

 ‘Drink up.’

 If Mildred had been looking up as she slowly sipped the potion, grimacing horribly, she might have seen the anxious look on her teacher’s face as she watched her young charge. But by the time she set the potion down on the workbench and looked up at Miss Hardbroom, the expression was replaced with her usual severe expression.

 ‘Better?’ She asked. Mildred nodded. It was true, she was wasn’t so dizzy any more, and the pounding in her head had quietened to a gentle hum. But her teeth were still chattering with cold.

 HB pressed a larger bottle of it into her hands.

 ‘Every four hours, and I shall check to see whether you have been taking it. In the meantime…’ Miss Hardbroom flicked her wrist, and transferred them both up to Mildred’s room. ‘Get some rest. I shall fetch the nurse to look over you properly.’ Mildred looked up gratefully.

 ‘Thanks for the potion, Miss H.’ Miss Hardbroom gave her an awkward nod.

 ‘You are excused from today’s homework. See me for a catch-up session when you are fully recovered instead.’ And with that, she vanished. Mildred blinked in astonishment. Coming from HB, that was almost…an _apology_.

 

* * *

  

Hecate Hardbroom had never been taught by Miss Cackle, had never known her as anything but a friend and colleague – and yet standing outside her door, seemingly unable to bring herself to knock, she felt like a misbehaving pupil gearing up the courage to confess to a teacher.

 Hecate supposed she had been somewhat austere with her second years that morning. She knew it had been a mistake to mirror Pippa that morning before class began, but they had had such a wonderful time together the night before, and Hecate had been walking on air, unable to keep the smile off of her face. And seeing Pippa’s face again, hair still mussed from sleep and traces of mascara lingering on her cheeks, Hecate’s heart had contracted in her chest and she had thought how ridiculous it was that this beautiful, witty, intelligent person wanted _her_ of all people.

 Until Pippa had said…those words. And Hecate had frozen, and stammered, and changed the subject until Pippa’s pretty smile dropped from her face, and the look of hurt Hecate had hoped to never see again stole across it. Which had instantly put Hecate’s back up, and Pippa’s pointed remarks and her own defensive retorts had escalated until they were both shouting at each other, until Hecate had eventually hurled the mirror across the room in anger and confusion and panic.

 And - and seeing Mildred Hubble this morning, that girl who could not brew the simplest draught yet wore her heart on her sleeve, smiled at the frogs in her jars and said… _those words_ as freely and easily as speaking, as breathing; something jealous and petty and cruel within Hecate had come to the fore.

 Which left her where she was, of course. With a mess on her hands born entirely of her own faults, and waiting outside Miss Cackle’s door wondering how on earth she was going to explain it to the Headmistress.

  _So this is what it must feel like to be Mildred Hubble_. She thought dourly. Realising that she should perhaps hold herself to a higher standard than a second year who had blown up the potions lab, Hecate knocked smartly on the door.

 ‘Come in.’ Came the familiar warm tone, and she pushed the door open. Ada Cackle greeted her deputy with a smile, setting aside some paperwork. ‘Ah, well met, Hecate. Cup of tea?’

 ‘No thank you, Ada.’ Hecate inclined her head. ‘I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. You see I… well, Mildred Hubble…’ Ada sighed, ruefully.

 ‘Alright, Hecate, what is it you believe her to be guilty of this time?’ That stung a little, but given what she had come to confess she supposed was entirely fair.

 ‘Nothing, actually. She fainted in her potions lesson this morning; I believe she is quite ill.’

 ‘Poor Mildred.’ Ada tutted in sympathy. ‘Suffering in silence, was she?’

 Hecate cleared her throat, her feeling of discomfort increasing.

 ‘She may have… attempted to get my attention. I was rather hard on her, I’m afraid.’

 Ada regarded her over the top of her spectacles, and Hecate felt more like a misbehaving pupil than ever. She sat in the chair in front of Ada’s desk, and it was all she could do not to place her head in her hands and pour her heart out like a school girl.

‘Why does that not surprise me?’ Ada asked, gently. ‘It would appear sometimes that you are determined to doubt the girl whatever she does.’

 Hecate’s brow creased, and she bowed her head slightly, unable to reply. Ada seemed to understand.

 ‘I…happened to speak with Miss Pentangle this morning, in order to arrange this year’s spelling bee.’ The older witch said carefully. Hecate’s head snapped up, but there was only kindness in the eyes of the older witch. ‘Hecate, as Headmistress I know it is not my place to discuss such matters, but as your friend…well you know you can confide in me.’

Hecate gave a stiff nod. It would be so easy, she thought, to tell Ada all her worries – as easy as it should be to say those words to Pippa. It wasn’t as if she didn’t _feel_ them, it wasn’t as if she didn’t look at Pippa with the same kind of admiration and wonder with which one might regard a mountain range. But there was something in her that held her back – perhaps would always hold her back.

 ‘I…I would rather not.’ She said haltingly. ‘I can only say – that I regret if matters in my personal life affected how I handled my potions class this morning, Ada.’

Miss Cackle sighed, evidently realising that was all she would get out of her deputy.

 ‘Well, no point worrying about it now. It’s not easy to discern when a pupil is truly ill, sometimes. And we’ll pay a visit to Mildred later.’

 ‘I thought perhaps the nurse…’ Hecate began, but Ada cut her off.

 ‘At a conference for the next week, I’m afraid. You and Dimity are both qualified medi-witches, and I assured Nurse we’d manage splendidly without her.’ Hecate pressed her lips together, unable to explain why this troubled her.

 ‘I made her a flu potion.’ She said, as much to reassure herself as Miss Cackle. ‘She should be fine.’

 

* * *

 

Mildred fell in and out of sleep uneasily, feeling colder and colder each time she woke up. She thought she must be wearing at least four layers by this point, and had six blankets on her bed. Still, she couldn’t stop shivering. She thought perhaps Enid and Maud had looked in while she had been dozing, but had left her to rest. Mildred was glad; the thought of loud voices asking if she was okay threatened to reignite the pounding in her head. But an indeterminate amount of time later, she was startled out of her slumber by a delicate _crack_ as Miss Hardbroom and Miss Cackle materialised into the room.

 ‘How are you feeling, dear?’ Miss Cackle asked kindly, perching on Mildred’s bed and giving her a gentle hug. Miss Hardbroom, meanwhile, hovered in an awkward manner by the end of Mildred’s bed, and Mildred felt her person scrutinised by HB’s hard gaze.

‘Cold.’ Mildred got out. ‘But Miss Hardbroom’s potion is helping.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Miss Cackle replied, brushing Mildred’s hair away from her face. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘You gave her quite the scare, you know!’

Miss Hardbroom’s eyebrows seemed to disappear into her hairline, and Mildred gave a weak laugh.

 ‘Now, shall we get your mother? Or transfer you home?’ Mildred’s eyes widened.

 ‘No!’ She said, desperately. ‘She’s on holiday with her friend, they saved up for ages and it’s all their leave for the next few months. Please don’t tell her I’m ill, or she’ll come back.’

 ‘It’s school policy, I’m afraid.’ Miss Cackle said, apologetically. ‘Imagine how your mother would feel if we kept this a secret from her.’ Mildred clutched at Miss Cackle’s hands.

 ‘Please, Miss Cackle. Let me mirror her, then, so she knows that I’m okay and that she doesn’t have to come back. Miss Hardbroom made me enough flu potion to last days!’ But Miss Cackle didn’t seem to be listening.

‘You’re very cold.’ Miss Cackle said in puzzlement. ‘I thought Miss Hardbroom said you had flu?’

 ‘See! I’m not even ill. I’m fine.’ Mildred turned her eyes up imploringly. ‘I just need to get a bit warmer.’ Miss Cackle sighed getting to her feet.

 ‘Very well.’ She conceded. ‘You may mirror your mother – but I will speak to her afterwards, and if she wishes to come and retrieve you it is entirely out of my hands.’

With that, Miss Cackle produced her pocket mirror, and began scrolling through her contacts. ‘Now let’s see…ah yes, dialling Julie Hubble.’ She handed Millie the mirror, maintaining a watchful distance from her pupil.

 ‘Hiya Millie love!’ Her mum chirped, grinning and waving from the mirror. Her mum was sat on her bed, and from what Mildred could see it was chucking it down outside.

 ‘Hi mum! How’s France?’ Mildred croaked, and her mum frowned.

 ‘You alright, sweetheart? You seem a bit poorly.’ Mildred glanced up at where Miss Cackle was standing, and sighed.

 ‘It’s honestly nothing, mum. I’ve got Hubble flu, that’s all.’ Her mum’s brow creased.

 ‘You poor thing! Right, I’m coming home.’

 ‘No!’ Mildred’s hand came to touch the mirror. ‘It’s the end of day one anyway, mum. I’m honestly fine. Please, please don’t leave – I’m only mirroring because they’re making me.’

 ‘Is Miss Cackle there?’ Mildred nodded, unhappily. ‘Put me on to her.’

 ‘Mum, please…’

 ‘We can talk again after, I want to speak to Miss Cackle.’

 ‘She wants to speak to you.’ Mildred said miserably, handing over the tablet. Miss Cackle took the mirror, placing a comforting hand on Mildred’s shoulder before walking out into the corridor.

 ‘Tell her I haven’t got a temperature!’ Mildred called out.

She clambered out of bed, intent on eavesdropping, but as soon as she did so a wave of dizziness came over her again, and she staggered. HB, whom Mildred had almost stopped noticing, swiftly crossed the room and caught her by the shoulders, looking ominous.

 ‘Mildred Hubble, get back into bed or I shall perform a binding spell and make you stay there.’ Miss Hardbroom snapped. She steered Mildred back to her bed, and Mildred huddled under her duvets, glaring at her teacher.

 ‘Can I have another blanket then, please?’

Mildred half expected a detention for her tone of voice, but to her surprise Miss Hardbroom wordlessly summoned a thick, fleecy blanket and laid it on her bed, smoothing down the edges. (Although she supposed she’d put that last part down to Miss Hardbroom’s near-pathological need for constant order and consistency.)

 ‘How many blankets do you have on here?’ Her teacher asked, frowning.

 ‘Seven.’ Mildred chattered.

 ‘Is this a regular side effect of this…familial ailment?’ Mildred shook her head.

 ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in my life.’

Miss Hardbroom’s expression was inscrutable, but she flicked her wrist, and the faint resemblance of warmth flooded through Mildred. Before Mildred could stammer her thanks, however, Miss Cackle returned with the mirror.

 ‘Mildred dear, I’ve talked with your mother. You’re to use the mirror to speak with her once a day, but as you seem to be getting better, I’ve assured her that she does not need to return.’ Mildred’s face blossomed into a grin.

 ‘You’re the best, Miss Cackle. Thanks so much.’

 ‘You’re very welcome.’ Miss Cackle said, beaming. ‘Come Miss Hardbroom, I feel that a chat with her mother might be the very best medicine for Mildred.’ And with that, the two older witches vanished.

 

* * *

 

Mildred must have slept for a long time after calling her mum, because when she regained consciousness it was dark, there was a cold plate of food on her bedside table that a well-meaning Maud or Enid must have left for her, and Miss Hardbroom’s warming spell had evidently worn off. She felt as though every single bone in her body had turned into an icicle, and she was so cold she didn’t think she could even move to the cupboard and put on another jumper. Her shivers were almost violent now, her body jerking and spasming.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her jaw clamped down in an effort to stop her teeth from chattering.

It was then, with a terrible, icy jolt of fear, that she saw the Person. A figure was sat on the chair in the corner, a hooded cloak hiding anything that could identify them. Mildred’s whole frame seemed to tense up in horror, her mouth opened and closed without sound coming out. Dimly, she could hear the muttered chant.

 ' _Bleakest wind and frostiest night,_

_Let my approach be out of sight._

_Hawthorn, oak, let winter last,_

_Bind the child and hold her fast!'_

The fear that had been paralysing Mildred suddenly seemed to well up inside her, and she screamed as loudly as her lungs would allow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind words and kudos!
> 
> I thought I had better mention that I started writing this before the finale aired, and so whilst this story is set during the Easter term of Mildred's second year, it's as if the finale never happened.

“Miss Hardbroom! Miss Hardbroom!”

Hecate woke to the sound of fists banging at her door. Not a morning person at the best of times, one glance at the sky outside told her that she was absolutely not supposed to be disturbed at this time of night. Particularly after she had been up almost into the witching hour herself, debating whether to mirror Pippa Pentangle and simply blurt out her feelings as quickly as possible.

With the knocks and plaintive voices outside increasing in volume, she pulled on a dressing gown and hurried to the door.

 ‘Girls, what on earth…’ She began in thunderous tones, but no sooner had she opened the door, two hands grabbed hers and pulled. Dimly, she registered two of her second years. Well, this really could not be tolerated – and certainly not with her hair unbraided.

 ‘Maud, Enid, have you taken leave of your senses?’ She asked, outraged. The girls tumbled over each other in their effort to explain, whilst simultaneously attempting to drag her down the corridor.

 ‘Miss Hardbroom, it’s Mildred…’

 ‘She was screaming!’

 ‘And then when we went to see her, it was like she didn’t even know us.’ Maud was close to tears, and an icy shot of panic coursed its way down Miss Hardbroom’s spine.

 ‘Lead the way.’ She said in clipped tones, suppressing any anxiety. ‘No need to be so dramatic girls, in all likelihood she just had a nightmare.’ Still, she set off at a pace so quick that Maud and Enid had to jog to keep up with her.

* * *

 They reached Mildred’s bedroom, and Hecate waved a hand to light the candles. To her relief, Mildred Hubble was lying sound asleep in bed, her limbs hanging limply by her sides.

 ‘There, girls.’ She said, irritated. ‘She doesn’t appear to be in much distress to me.’ Seeing their anxiety, she called out sharply. ‘Mildred?’ There was no reply. ‘Mildred Hubble, get up this instant!’ Fed up of waiting, Hecate flicked her wrist impatiently to cast a waking spell.

Still, Mildred did not stir.

The unfamiliar rush of panic now hit Hecate again in waves, and she walked over to Mildred’s bed.

‘Mildred? Mildred?’ She shook the girl’s shoulders roughly, and recoiled, finding them as cold as ice. Mildred’s eyes flickered open a little.

‘So…so cold.’ She slurred. ‘It’s in the corner!’ Hecate looked at her a little closer. Mildred was chalky white, and Hecate could see blueish veins beneath her skin.

‘That’s what she was saying before.’ Enid cried. ‘But there’s no one there, we checked – not even anyone invisible.’

Hecate turned around, casting her eyes over the corner of Mildred’s room, which was currently occupied by nothing more than an armchair and a reading lamp.

‘Mildred?’ Hecate asked, urgently. ‘What do you mean. Who is in the corner?’

Mildred whimpered, seemingly having to force her eyes open again to look Hecate as she clutched at her teacher’s hand. Her grasp was shaking and weak.

‘It’s too cold.’ She whispered. ‘I’m too cold – help, help me! I don’t know what to do.’

‘She’s delirious.’ Hecate said, her calm voice belying the growing sense of terror she felt. ‘Enid, fetch Miss Cackle. Now.’ Enid didn’t need to be told twice, and the girl sprinted down the corridor.

Mildred’s eyes rolled back in her head as her eyelids flickered shut again, and no amount of shaking would wake her. But something wasn’t right, Hecate thought, mind working fast as she scanned Mildred’s unconscious form. If the girl had been feverish, that would have been one thing. But she wasn’t flushed, or sweating – she wasn’t even warm to the touch.

_So perhaps that’s the root of the problem._ Hecate thought. Collecting her wits, she cast a warming spell over Mildred. But there was no reaction, not even the faintest hint of colour in her cheeks. Frowning, she cast it again, and felt Mildred’s arms.

‘She’s still cold.’ Hecate muttered.

‘But-but look Miss Hardbroom.’ Maud said, coming around the other side. ‘She’s not shivering any more – maybe she is a bit warmer.’ Hecate looked at the girl in thinly veiled horror. She was right – Mildred Hubble was no longer shivering. But her eyes were still closed, and the sharp, painful sound of her desperate breaths had faded with the chattering of her teeth.

Hecate remembered the day the girls in her year at Miss Broomhead’s had gone skating on the frozen lake, and how Marcella Grimthorn had slipped beneath the ice and almost died of the cold. When they had succeeded in pulling her from the freezing water, she had been too weak even to shiver.

Heart beating at a rapid staccato, Hecate pressed two fingers to the side of Mildred’s neck.

There was a sluggish pulse, one she could swear was growing fainter and fainter by the second.

Hecate acted almost instantaneously. She bundled Mildred up in her blankets and transferred them both to the potions laboratory.

* * *

 The room seemed eerily quiet at night, and an icy draught hit Hecate as soon as her feet landed on the ground. Working quickly, she lit the torches with one hand and sent warm air rushing through the room with another. Then, she got to work. Propping Mildred up against the wall, she summoned her ingredients, making them soar through the air towards her. If a simple warming spell wouldn’t do it, well, she would just have to try harder then.

‘Bat’s brains.’ She murmured. ‘And Oleander. And Harlot’s wort.’ Her fingers were trembling as she added the ingredients to her cauldron, one anxious eye on Mildred. The girl had not registered the transfer, and even beneath the blankets Hecate could see the rise and fall of her chest growing fainter.

 ‘Come on, Mildred Hubble.’ Her voice was fierce. ‘Stay with me a little longer.’

Her fingers grew fast as she chopped Nigerian star-chillies and de-winged hornets, stirring clockwise and then twice anti-clockwise with each addition. The potion was the colour of rust – normally Hecate would stop there, but glancing at Mildred in the corner of her classroom, she was suddenly struck by the thought that if this wasn’t enough, there wouldn’t be time to make another. If this potion failed, then Mildred could…

‘She needs something more.’ Hecate muttered. ‘Come on, think. If she’s not strong enough to warm up by herself, if the spell’s not enough then she needs more help. She needs…’ 

It was then that the answer came to her. Hecate picked up her knife, and after cleaning it with a hasty spell, made a smal cut in her left arm and allowed a few drops of her blood to fall into the potion, stirring it all the while. As she stirred, she chanted, closing her eyes and allowing the words to come to her naturally.

‘ _Hot of head and warm of heart,_

_Let me strength to her impart.’_  

After half a minute, the potion turned bright red, almost too radiant to look at. There was no time to decant the potion, and Hecate brought her cauldron over to where Mildred was slumped against the wall.

 

Acting entirely instinctually now, Hecate sat down next to the girl and gathered up her limp form in her arms, allowing Mildred’s head to rest against her shoulder. Mildred seemed hardly breathing at this point, but Hecate tipped back her head and forced a few drops of potion down her throat. Holding her close, she chanted. 

_‘Hot of Head and warm of heart,_

_Let me strength to her impart._

_Though winter courses through her veins,_

_Not death, but in deep sleep remain.’_

With the last word resounding through her laboratory, she closed her eyes and felt her power bubble beneath her skin and project outwards. Tendrils of magic seemed to sprout from her skin and wrap themselves around Mildred like a blanket. As each left her, it became harder and harder to focus. She held Mildred tighter, forcing herself to concentrate on the feel of the girl in her arms, willing her to just _breathe_.

Hecate felt a surge of energy, and then in her arms felt Mildred jerk and begin to shiver violently, her chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm. Hecate let out a choked sound, her muscles relaxing as she rested her cheek on the top of Mildred’s head. She hadn’t realised that she had been holding her breath, but now she had to force herself to inhale and exhale.

‘There.’ She told the sleeping young witch, almost severely. ‘You’re fine. Everything’s going to be alright.’ With a shaky breath, she transferred them both back to Mildred’s room.

* * *

 Hecate materialised on the bedroom floor, Mildred now breathing slowly and deeply in her arms.  Ada, clad in a floral nightie, gave the most enormous start.

‘Hecate! What on earth…’ She trailed off as she saw Mildred. ‘Is she…’

‘It’s not an illness.’ Hecate explained, and half-carrying her student set her down in her bed. ‘It can’t be. It’s some kind of winter curse, but I can’t for the life of me work out why it won’t respond to simple heating magic. I had to put her under a very deep enchantment even to get her warm.’

‘But she still won’t wake up!’ Enid fretted. Hecate hadn’t noticed the two girls huddled in the corner of the room, watching their friend in terror.

‘An essential part of any serious curative spell, as well you should know, Enid Nightshade.’ She snapped. ‘Right now, Mildred Hubble needs all of her strength, all of her magic – and a fair bit of mine, I should add – to keep breathing. What she does not need are inane questions from a girl with a remedial grasp of potions.’ Even in her worry Hecate felt a small pang at losing her temper, but watching Enid’s face turn from panic-stricken to distinctly murderous, Hecate thought perhaps her reaction had been for the best.

‘Right.’ Ada said, a little faintly. ‘I’m calling a meeting of the staff. Maud, Enid, keep a close eye on Mildred. If anything – _anything_ should change, summon myself or Miss Hardbroom immediately.’ And with that, the two witches transported themselves to Ada’s study.

* * *

 

There was an emergency summons spell reserved for the Headmistress of the academy that had all the staff blinking and rubbing their eyes in front of Ada and Hecate in less than ten minutes.

 ‘Good grief and confound it, Ada.’ Algernon yawned, Miss Bat blinking away sleep in a rather mouldy looking nightgown next to him. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’

 ‘We have a rather urgent situation on our hands.’ Ada said, glancing at Hecate unhappily. ‘Mildred Hubble has been put under a winter curse.’ Gasps went up about the room, and Dimity clapped a hand to her mouth.

 ‘But…’ Marigold stammered. ‘But none of our pupils could have done such a thing.’ Hecate narrowed her eyes at the woman.

 ‘Indeed.’ She said. ‘Whoever did it has a most remarkable command of the darkest magic of our art. Mildred Hubble almost died tonight.’ Silence descended in Ada’s study, and an image of the girl, white faced and fighting for every last breath, flashed before Hecate’s eyes.

 ‘What can we do?’ Dimity asked, her face set determinedly.

 ‘I’ve stabilised her for now.’ Hecate said tightly. ‘I’ve linked my magic to her own, but I can’t support her forever. Her own powers aren’t developed enough to fight any longer, so when the link breaks...’ She trailed off.

 ‘We can help.’ Marigold cried, but Ada shook her head.

 ‘Hecate has placed her in an enchanted sleep.’ Ada said softly. ‘Another link would send Mildred into a coma so deep we might never awaken her from it. Our only hope, it seems, is to find the person who cast the spell.’ From where she was standing, Hecate could see a tear running down Algernon’s cheek.

 ‘Poor little tadpole.’ He choked. ‘Me and Gwen’ll go to the library. There might be something there on arcane winter spells.’ Miss Cackle nodded her thanks, and Mr Rowan-Webb and Miss Bat vanished into thin air. Ada turned to Miss Drill.

 ‘Dimity, would you go to Mildred’s room and keep an eye on her? We need a trained mediwitch with her at all…’ Ada hadn’t needed to finish. Dimity was already gone.

 

‘And me.’ Miss Mould spoke up, voice trembling a little. ‘What can I do?’ Hecate disappeared and reappeared at her side in an instant, eyeing her menacingly.

 ‘You.’ She hissed. ‘Can tell us exactly what you have done.’ Before Miss Mould could react, Hecate cast a binding spell, and Miss Mould found her wrists tied together by a beam of light. It was risky – with so much of her magic needed to keep Mildred warm, there was every chance the fragile link between them would snap. But Hecate was no longer thinking logically, at the idea of this woman placing one of the girls in her care in danger.

 ‘Hecate?’ Marigold asked, panicked. ‘Ada – what is the meaning of this?’

 ‘Yes, I’d quite like to know that myself.’ Ada’s voice was sharp.

 ‘Miss Cackle, there is only one witch within these walls capable of casting such a spell.’ Hecate’s voice was soft and dangerous. ‘And only one who would wish to harm Mildred. Your sister. But she was trapped. Someone must have set her free. And the only person in this castle who does not loathe Agatha with every fibre of her being for what she did last summer is standing before us now. Eliminating the impossible…we are left with the fiend.’ Miss Mould’s eyes widened in fear.

 ‘I-I, she…I haven’t done anything I swear.’ She looked pleadingly at Ada. ‘Ada, you must believe I am innocent.’

 

 Ada held Marigold’s gaze levelly, and Hecate relaxed. Even trusting, kind Ada could not fail to notice the guilt in Marigold Mould’s eyes. It would seem that Mildred’s fate had cracked the façade of the normally inscrutable art teacher.

‘I’ll take over the binding spell, Hecate.’ Ada was doing well to disguise the tremor in her voice. ‘Preserve your strength.’ Hecate nodded and allowed Ada to take the reins, noting with some dread the tiredness creeping over her already, as the link between herself and Mildred pulled tighter and tighter.

Marigold, meanwhile, was looking between the two witches in horror.

‘No – Ada please, you cannot believe her.’

‘My sister can be…persuasive.’ Ada said, coldly. ‘I understand that more than anyone. But to put a young girl’s life at risk...’ Miss Mould shook her head, frantically.

‘It’s not Agatha.’ She said, casting her eyes from one disbelieving face to another. ‘I haven’t done _anything_ – even if that is what I came to do. I’ll admit it, if it helps save Mildred. I served Agatha, and I came here to retrieve the painting and set her free. But she’s still stuck inside, and I promise you I am done with her. And I would never do anything to hurt one of the girls – least of all Millie.’ Hecate pulsed with anger.

‘Surely, Ada, you cannot believe this woman’s lies a second longer.’ Her voice had risen almost to a shout.

‘A truth spell.’ Miss Mould pleaded. ‘Ada, cast a truth spell, you’ll see that I’m not lying.’ Ada nodded. 

‘ _By Hekate and the craft in sooth,_

_Let this witch speak only truth.’_ She chanted, waving her hands over Miss Mould. A warm glow came over the art teacher, and she said, calm now.

‘I have not had contact with Agatha since I began teaching at the school, nor have I attempted to remove the portrait. I swear by the Crone.’

 

Ada sighed, looking suddenly weary.

‘It can’t be Agatha, Hecate’ Ada said heavily. ‘And appalling as her conduct may be, we have to release Marigold – we have more important things to do tonight.’ Hecate turned to her colleague in disbelief.

‘This woman lied to get into this school. She attempted to retrieve Agatha from exile – she has broken the code in every way imaginable.’

‘She made a mistake.’ Ada said, calmly. ‘I know what it’s like more than anyone to want to make Agatha happy. And we need Miss Mould.’ She turned to address the still-bound witch. ‘We were never able to find Agatha’s spell books, after her take over. But we know they’re in the school, because she used them to cast the annihilation spell. Do you know where they are?’

 ‘No.’ Marigold said instantly.

 ‘Can you guess?’ Reluctantly, Miss Mould nodded.

 ‘I’ve looked for them just about everywhere.’ She muttered. ‘Except…except your study. And Agatha always did say that the best hiding place was in plain sight.’ Ada smiled grimly.

 ‘Yes she did, didn’t she.' The Headmistress turned to address Hecate. 'Agatha’s spell books contained the darkest magic known to the craft. Perhaps the spell that Mildred is under can be found within their pages.’ Hecate looked at her friend with an expression of utmost seriousness.

‘That is a slim hope indeed.’ Hecate said quietly ‘To pin Mildred Hubble’s life on.’ Ada looked pained, but stayed firm.

 ‘We have no other choice.’ Ada made to release Miss Mould, but struck by a sudden thought, Hecate stopped her.

 ‘Is the truth spell still in place?’ She asked. Ada nodded. ‘Then, Miss Mould, answer me this. Did you persuade one of our girls to attempt to remove the portrait?’

 Miss Mould’s mouth opened and shut, but words were lost to her. Then she appeared to try shaking her head, but all that would come were jerky little movements back and forth, until she gave up and said,

 ‘At the beginning of term, I thought I could…plant the idea in the head of one of your girls to remove the portrait. But she didn’t do it! I swear by the craft, she never went through with it.’ Ada and Hecate exchanged glances.

 ‘Who was the girl?’ With a sinking feeling, Hecate thought she could probably guess as to the answer.

 ‘The middle Hallow girl. Ethel.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave a comment xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented! I love reading all your thoughts...
> 
> On a side note, I am actually going to fail first year at this rate with the amount of fic I have written for this show, but oh well??

 

Hecate looked anxiously at Ada, watching the older woman’s heart break a little more as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘I might have known.’ She said, exhaustedly. ‘Miss Hardbroom, could you bring Ethel to my study, and…’

‘In the interests of conserving my strength, it had perhaps better be you who fetches her.’ Hecate interrupted, digging her nails into her palm in an effort to ignore the waves of tiredness rushing over her. Ada nodded.

‘Of course – I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I’ll be back presently.’ And with that, Miss Cackle transferred herself from the room.

 

Hecate looked at Marigold Mould, whose hands were still twitching against their constraints.

‘Why?’ She asked the woman, simply. Marigold sneered at her a little.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It’s people like you – slavishly following all those petty and pointless rules of the code – who have been holding witchcraft back for centuries. Look how strict you were with poor Mildred.’ Hecate was silent, and Marigold carried on, voice getting shriller. ‘You stand there accusing me of putting her in danger, when you were the one who made her feel like a lesser witch, every day! I know your sort, Hecate Hardbroom. Don’t pretend to care about the girl now.’ Something snapped in Hecate, and she walked towards Miss Mould, fingers twitching.

‘Don’t you _dare_ ’ She said, softly. ‘presume to call my care for my pupils into question. And do not be so stupid as to think that because I am hard on Mildred Hubble that I care for the wretched girl any less than you do, Miss Mould.’

Before Marigold could reply, Ada and a very sleepy looking Ethel materialised in the room.

‘Miss Hardbroom?’ The second year asked, doing her best to stifle a yawn. ‘Miss Cackle? What on earth’s the matter?’

‘Ethel.’ Ada said seriously. ‘You’re not in trouble – not yet, anyway. But we need to know. Did you release my sister from her portrait?’ The girl blinked out of her doziness, her eyes widening.

‘Miss Cackle, I didn’t! Whatever you’ve been told, it’s a lie. I promise I didn’t do anything.’

Hecate stepped forward, her worn and frayed temper coming to the fore once more.

‘Mildred Hubble is lying in a coma upstairs.’ She said, her voice raised. ‘She has, at the most generous estimate, hours live, unless we find out how she was enchanted. Now, before I ask Miss Cackle to cast the Headmistress’s truth spell, and you face the most severe consequences imaginable, speak the truth. Did you release Agatha from the portrait?’ Ethel’s face twisted uncomfortably.

‘I honestly didn’t.’ She said, a little desperately. ‘I would never, not after last summer. I just…tried a talking spell. It wasn’t to help her take over, it was just to try and persuade her to give Esme’s magic back! I thought if I pointed out a few things to her then maybe…’ Ada and Hecate exchanged fearful glances.

‘Did it not occur to you, Ethel Hallow.’ Miss Hardbroom said through gritted teeth. ‘That once you gave her the ability to talk, you gave her the ability to cast spells?’

‘But I took the spell off again! I promise.’ Ethel cried.

‘Immediately?’ Ada asked. The girl frowned.

‘Well no, I heard Miss Hardbroom and Mildred coming, so I left and hid – but as soon as Mildred was gone I went back in and took off the spell.’ Hecate looked at Ada in horror, her stomach tying itself into knots.

‘I gave Mildred detention last week for forgetting her homework.’ She got out. ‘I made her clean your study, she would have been right in Agatha's line of fire…’

‘What happened was not your fault, Hecate.’ Ada placed a comforting hand on her arm. She turned to Ethel Hallow, who was now fighting back tears. ‘And neither is it yours. There will be consequences for this, Ethel, but thank you for your honesty.’ Ethel nodded.

‘I’m so, so sorry.’ She said in a choked voice. ‘I never thought…I know I don't like Mildred, but I’d never want her _dead_.’

‘We know that.’ Ada said gently. ‘And hopefully you’ll get a chance to apologise to her in the morning.’

The Headmistress walked over to the portrait of her sister, steeling herself. ‘In the meantime, I think this remains the best way to settle the matter. All three of you, be ready to bind her fast when I release her. Miss Mould, we can count on your support?’

Marigold Mould hesitated, then nodded.

‘Yes, Miss Cackle.’

‘Right.’ Ada brought up her hands to the portrait.

‘ _By all that we see, and all that we are._

_I summon you, Agatha, from realms afar.’_

There was nothing. Not even the hint of a glow. Ada paled.

‘Strange.’ She said, weakly. ‘I believe that to be the correct incantation’

‘It is.’ Hecate stepped closer to the portrait.

‘Should Miss Hardbroom try it?’ Ethel asked. Hecate shook her head.

‘It’s too powerful a spell. If I perform it I risk breaking the link I have with Mildred. Besides, it should have worked for Miss Cackle.’

‘But look, Miss Cackle.’ Ethel pointed at the portrait. ‘You are doing something – she’s flickering.’ Hecate scrutinised the painting – the girl was right. The brushstrokes that defined Agatha were…trembling, somewhat.

‘But that’s not me.’ Ada frowned.

‘No.’ Hecate said in realisation. ‘It’s Agatha. Agatha is transferring herself from within the painting.’

Ada’s hands came to cover her mouth.

‘But that’s impossible!’ She gasped. ‘Our magic and the magic of the Great Wizard are holding her there. It would take a spell of unprecedented power to overcome her constraints.’

 

Hecate closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Then, she turned to Miss Mould, her decision made.

‘You truly believe that you can divine the whereabouts of Agatha’s spell books?’ She asked, fiercely. Miss Mould had slunk into the corner of the room to remain unnoticed during Ethel’s interrogation, but her sullen look had been transformed by fear, and she nodded.

‘I was in her coven. I’ve studied from them for years.’ Waving a hand to silence Ethel’s gasp of realisation, Hecate addressed the Headmistress.

‘You’re right, Ada. We have to let her go.’ She raised a threatening finger at Miss Mould. ‘But if you even _dream_ of using your magic to escape, or to do anyone in this room harm…’

‘I wouldn’t. I _wouldn’t_.’ Miss Mould said, passionately. Hecate stared at her for a moment. It seemed to beggar belief, that someone who had dedicated their life to living against every rule and condition of the code could give it all up so easily. Could put herself at risk of prison or exile or worse, through being discovered.

 But looking at the tremble of the woman’s lip, the few errant tears she attempted to brush away…Hecate thought about how Miss Mould had pinned one of Mildred’s drawings of the castle in the staffroom, and drawn all of their attention to the girl’s use of colour and texture, and what a wonderful artist she was turning out to be. At the time, Hecate had scowled into her tea, worried as ever about such praise being heaped on the girl when she still had such limited control over her powers. But seeing Miss Mould’s eyes light up as she talked about Mildred…well, clearly the girl had had some effect on her.

Mildred Hubble was like that, Hecate reflected, with a pang, thinking of how resentful she had been of Mildred’s natural warmness before. She had a way of making people care about her.

Hecate was startled out of her reverie as Ada waved her hands, and the bonds that had been holding Miss Mould faltered and died.

* * *

 The four witches ransacked Miss Cackle’s study, papers and books and witching artefacts strewed over the floor. The painting seemed to be watching them all the while, Agatha’s flickering gaze having something of a taunt in it.

‘No – we’re going about this all wrong.’ Ada panted, her hands feeling at the back of a bookcase. ‘I’ve searched this room I don’t know how many times. Agatha knew what she was doing.’ Miss Mould ran her hands through her hair.

‘Agatha was obsessed with this room. Talked about all the private conversations you and your mother used to have in her without her, and how she used to conceal herself without your knowledge to spy on you both. I think she was proud of it.’ Ada nodded, her glasses misty.

‘When we were younger, we used to hide in here together.’ She said, sadly.

‘You’ve changed the study quite a bit from your mother’s day, haven’t you, Miss Cackle?’ Ethel remarked, wandering around. ‘Didn’t there used to be a book case there – and a cupboard, there?’ Ada frowned.

‘Well, you would know better than me, dear – it’s been twenty-five years since I’ve seen the study as my mother decorated it.’ Ethel nodded, walking close to the walls.

‘Probably Agatha changed her hiding place when the two of you fell out – but it would make sense for her to conceal stuff in the same place she hid to spy on you.’ She explained. ‘That’s what I would do. Would you and your mother sit by the fire, together?’ Ada nodded.

‘Yes, just as the chairs are arranged now.’ Ethel moved over to the fireplace.

‘So it would have to be near here.’ She said, thoughtfully. She stared into the mirror above the fireplace, her eyes lighting up. ‘Miss Cackle, was there always a mirror here?’

‘No.’ Ada breathed, coming to stand next to her pupil. ‘There used to be a tapestry of the Scottish Coven. I had it taken down after Agatha left the school the first time.'

She turned to Hecate. 'When we were children, we often used to talk of…of locating the secret passages that the ancient witches had hidden within the castle. The history books didn’t say much about them, only that they were connected by the fireplaces.’ Hecate closed her eyes, hardly daring to hope.

With trembling hands, Ada removed the mirror from the wall, revealing the bare stone behind.

‘I can’t see anything.’ Ethel said, puzzled.

‘It is never that easy.’ Hecate walked over to the fireplace. ‘But there cannot be any complex enchantment or device guarding it, else your sister would never have stumbled upon it.’ Carefully, she felt her hands along the stone wall.

‘Nothing!’ She said, her jaw clenched in an effort to hide her frustration. ‘What can there be here that a teenage witch could discover that we cannot?’

At her words, Ethel Hallow gasped.

‘Miss Cackle.’ She said, kneeling in front of the hearth. ‘Last year, when I enchanted Mildred’s cat, you made me clean out your fireplace. Did your mother used to give that as a detention?’ Ada gaped.

‘She…she did.’ Ada said, softly. Grinning, Ethel felt in the grate and up the chimney with her hand.

‘I bet Agatha got loads of detentions.’ She said, excitedly. ‘I bet she spent a while cleaning out this fireplace, until one day…’ There was a soft clicking sound, and then all of a sudden the stones above the mantelpiece seemed to fade and melt away, to reveal a long, dark tunnel.

 

Hecate ran her hand along the inside of the passage, and drew out three books.

‘Two of those are Agatha’s Spell Books.’ Miss Mould said, instantly. ‘The red one is her _Gramarye_ – I’d recognise it anywhere.’ Hecate exhaled in relief, pushing the near-overwhelming fatigue away for just a little while longer.

‘Miss Mould, Ethel, you two take that book.’ She ordered. ‘Miss Cackle and I will search the other. The spell Mildred is under must be somewhere within the two volumes.’

 ‘What’s in the third book, Miss Mould?’ Ethel asked, interested.

Hecate looked at the girl sharply. There had been some… anxiety amongst the staff, after Ethel had so readily welcomed Agatha last year, after the older witch had taken such a shine to her. And whilst none of them save the Headmistress and Esmeralda Hallow knew much about the circumstances in which Agatha gained entry to the school, Hecate had not missed the uneasy glances Ada occasionally directed at Ethel. But for now, there was only genuine concern in the girl’s eyes.

Ada took a closer look at the volume.

‘Do you know, I do think this is a book of witching tales she used to read when we were children.’ Ada said, taking the book and running her thumb over the worn spine in fascination. ‘Whenever she really wanted to frighten me, she’d read them aloud. Then I wouldn’t be able to sleep for fear, and mother would scold her – and that would be another thing for me to be sorry about, of course. Why, I remember one particular story…’

As she spoke, a sudden change came over Miss Cackle. She paled in colour, and sat down heavily in one of the armchairs by the fire.

‘Ada!’ Hecate moved toward her, but Ada held up a shaking hand to stop her. Her face was now grey with dread. With trembling fingers, she flicked through the pages of the book, yellowed and curled with age, until she reached a richly detailed illustration. It depicted a witch clad in white with her arms outstretched towards a sleeping child. There was the faint imprint on the page where a bookmark had once been, and grey marks where a child's fingers had once eagerly traced over the page.

‘This was Agatha’s favourite story to read aloud,’ she whispered. ‘About a young girl and the White Witch. The witch creeps into the girl’s dreams, whispering in her ear, until finally one night she appears in her room and claims the girl’s heart as her own, turning it into ice. Hecate, you don’t think…’ Hecate’s mind worked quickly.

‘Before Mildred fell unconscious, she said there was someone in the corner of her room. I thought her delirious, but…’ She knelt in front of Ada, running her eyes over the illustration. ‘It must all be one spell. The winter curse weakens Mildred, and your sister drains the remainder of the girl’s magic until she has enough to materialise.’

 

‘I know the spell.’ Miss Mould spoke up. ‘It’s Agatha’s reworking of an ancient curse.’ Tears shone in her eyes. ‘And I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do to help Mildred. It’s over.’

Ada buried her head in her hands, and Hecate reeled a little from the finality of Marigold’s words. She must be lying – she must. There had to be a way to save Mildred Hubble.

 ‘What do you mean?’ She half snarled, standing up and towering over the other witch. ‘What would you have us believe this time, Miss Mould?’

 ‘Agatha boasted about the curse to the rest of our coven.’  Miss Mould said, wringing her hands and eyeing Hecate’s furious form a little nervously. ‘The winter spell forges a bond between the two parties. It means that only Mildred can break the curse, and banish Agatha – no counter-curse or antidote from us can help her. But if she dies, Agatha will be able to use Mildred’s magic to move between the realms – and I suppose, to transfer herself here. It was why Agatha was so proud of the spell; the cold makes the subject so weak she cannot fight back. What hope could a student witch have?’

 Ada lifted her head from her hands, and met Hecate’s eyes. The two witches looked at each other for a long time. Hecate felt a glimmer of hope stir somewhere deep in her breast.

‘Well, Miss Mould.’ She said eventually. ‘It would appear that you do not know Mildred Hubble as well as you think. Ethel, wake the others in your coven and bring them to Mildred’s room, now.’ Ethel nodded, walking smartly from the room.

 Ada clasped Hecate’s hands in her own.

‘I’ll transfer you to Mildred’s room.’ Ada said, her trusting eyes never leaving Hecate’s. ‘Good speed, Hecate.’ Hecate gave a small half smile.

‘And what will you do?’ Ada wiped a tear from her eye.

‘I shall summon Julie Hubble. She should be here in case…the worst happens.’ Hecate’s stomach clenched painfully. She thought suddenly of who she would want summoned, if the worst happened to her.

‘And if…anything should go wrong.’ Hecate said, carefully, ducking her head a little. ‘Tell Pippa Pentangle… tell her that I…well, just give her my love, would you?’ She attempted to say the last part lightly, mindful of Marigold Mould’s presence, but when she tentatively looked up once more, she saw all the understanding in the world in her friend's eyes.

‘Of course I will.’ Ada replied, gently. ‘Though I do believe she knows she has it already.’ Hecate gave her friend a wobbly smile in thanks.

‘What are you doing?’ Miss Mould asked, anxiously. ‘What don’t I know about Mildred Hubble? Does she have gifts? Hidden talents?’ Hecate blinked back her tears then, and snorted.

‘Gifts and hidden talents?’ She said witheringly. ‘Don’t be absurd. What Mildred has is bravery, stubbornness and sheer pig-headed will to keep fighting no matter how clearly the odds are stacked against her. Frankly, I fear for Agatha Cackle. Ada, if you please.’ Before the transference could take place, Hecate added:

‘Oh and one other thing. She has me.’

* * *

 

Maud and Enid gave a start at Hecate’s unexpected arrival, practically jumping to attention. From what she could tell, Maud had been sitting on the floor by Mildred’s bed, holding the girl’s hand, whilst Enid had been pacing wildly about the room. For a moment, Hecate’s heart softened at the sight of their tear-stained faces. But the teacher in her knew that if they were to save Mildred, these girls would have to summon all of their strength.

 ‘Miss Hardbroom?’ Miss Drill asked. She was sat on the chair beside Mildred’s bed, her own eyes looking a little red-rimmed. ‘Have you found the cure?’

 ‘Not quite.’ Hecate said. Then all of a sudden she was hit by a wave of exhaustion, and she staggered a little.

 ‘Miss Hardbroom!’ Dimity leapt to her feet. ‘The link...’

 ‘Still there.’ Hecate said, her eyes tightly shut, forcing herself to concentrate. She could feel the beginning of a headache pulsing. ‘Miss Drill, would you be so kind as to summon Drusilla to the school? I shall speak to Miss Pentangle about her absence later.’ To her credit, and Hecate’s lasting gratitude, Dimity didn’t question her, simply nodded and departed swiftly. Hecate looked at Maud and Enid seriously.

 ‘Girls, it is no simple task that I have to ask of you right now. And there is no guarantee that it will save Mildred…’

 ‘What is it?’ Enid asked, instantly.

 ‘We’ll do _anything_.’ Maud was quiet, but came and held Enid’s hand tightly. Hecate felt a pang of fondness, before hardening her heart once more.

 ‘Mildred is your coven leader, and as such shares a powerful bond with all its members. If you can use that bond to communicate with her...in her dreams, so to speak, then I can use the magical link between us to enter into that dream world and help her defeat the curse. Maud, you’ve known Mildred the longest. Can you devise the chant?’ Maud stuck her chin out and nodded determinedly. ‘Good. Remember the ingredients in a dreaming draught –  henbane and yarrow will create a dreamlike state, sage and nettle will strengthen it.’

She turned to Enid. ‘Enid Nightshade, you must maintain the link between the coven members. It will be harder without Mildred, but you should be able to do it. If the chant works, there will be a silvery light around the two of us – maintain the circle and the connection whatever you do. If you break it, all is lost.’ Enid nodded, scrubbing at her face furiously.

‘But…Miss Hardbroom?’ She asked, surprisingly timid – perhaps after Hecate’s earlier admonishment. ‘If you enter Mildred’s dreams, then what happens if she…’ Enid trailed off, unable to complete the sentence, and Hecate’s stomach flipped. She considered Enid Nightshade.

‘In the event of Mildred Hubble’s demise.’ She said quietly. ‘If I were to remain in the dream-state, I would of course be trapped there.’ She attempted a reassuring smile, though it bore closer resemblance to a grimace, and by the look on Enid’s face it was having limited success. ‘But I wouldn’t worry yourself about it now. Mildred…’ Hecate paused. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to her student. ‘Don’t worry.’ She said eventually. Enid nodded, jaw set.

 ‘Good luck, Miss Hardbroom.’ She said, quietly, all animosity between them forgotten.

 ‘Thank you, Enid Nightshade.’ Hecate replied, her voice brisk in an attempt to disguise its emotion. ‘Now, I had better get started.’

 

With that, she sat on the side of Mildred’s bed, and awkwardly brought herself to lie beside the girl. Mildred’s skin was almost translucent, her eyelids unflickering in sleep. She was still cold to the touch.

 ‘Really.’ Hecate muttered. ‘The beds we give you girls are impossibly narrow.’

Delicately, mindful of not worrying the child's sleep, Hecate shifted Mildred so that the girl's head came to rest against her chest. She brought her arms gingerly around Mildred, and then more securely, Hecate's loose hair cushioning her head until their dark locks were indistinguishable.

Hecate waited calmly until she could detect the uneven rhythm of Mildred’s breathing through her shivers, and then matched her own inhalations and exhalations with her pupil’s.

  _Mildred is almost as tall as I am_ , Hecate reflected absently, wondering with a slight stab of pain how the little eleven year old who had emerged from a pond dripping in algae could possibly fight back one of the wickedest witches for generations.

But no, Hecate had to remind herself. Mildred Hubble was over a year older, and with it was well on her way to becoming a competent witch. She could do this.

 There were noises outside, and Hecate looked up to where Maud and Enid were regarding the two of them with pure astonishment.

‘That’ll be the rest of your coven, girls.’ Hecate said, lightly, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world. ‘Fill them in. I need to concentrate.’ And the witch closed her eyes and rested her head against her pupil’s.

‘Mildred Hubble.’ She said urgently. ‘I know in ordinary circumstances you might be inclined to…shut me out. But on this occasion, you must let me in. I won’t look at anything you don’t want me to see, but you must, you _must_ let me inside.’ The girl was heavy in Hecate’s arms, and she had no idea whether anything she said had gone in – but she could only hope, now.

Hecate could hear the girls chattering anxiously around her, but Ethel’s bossy tone soon cut through as she gave orders:

‘Come on beetle-brains, form a circle, hands joined. Everyone closing their eyes, too – no material distractions from the chant.’ And then, Maud began.

“ _We are many, we are one.”_ The chant was taken up by the rest of the coven. Hecate focused her attentions on the feeling of Mildred.

_“We are many, we are one. We are many, we are one_.” Then Maud Spellbody’s voice came ringing out again.

_“Henbane bright and yarrow root,_

_Aid us now in our pursuit._

_Sage and nettle picked by moon,_

_With Mildred Hubble we commune.’_

_‘With Mildred Hubble we commune!’_

The chant swelled and grew. Hecate could feel the magic crackling in the air around her, and she gathered her breath. In order for this to work, she would have to project the spell mentally.

_‘There’s nothing aught but that which seems,_

_Now let me walk amongst your dreams.’_

She repeated the words of the spell in her head, allowing them to fuse and connect with the coven’s chant around her. Hecate pressed her head tightly against Mildred’s.

‘Let me in, Mildred Hubble.’ She thought, trying to project something of her austere, calm teacher’s voice. ‘Just greet me as you would any other day. Think: ‘Well met and welcome, Sister.’ With one last push, Hecate channelled all her remaining magic into the force of the words, until she could feel her powers pulsing and extending once more towards Mildred.

There was a glimmer of silver, and Hecate slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this fic is almost over?? Thanks so much for reading and commenting, I was so unsure as to whether I should post this, but I have actually loved reading what you guys thought.

When Hecate awoke, her first thought was that she must have transferred herself to the North Pole. The snow was an onslaught, whipped into a frenzy by a howling wind. The cold itself was knife-like, and she rubbed her arms in a futile effort to get warm. Teeth chattering, Hecate tried to summon a light – but was met with nothing but the blinding flash of snow hurtling its way past her.

_Of course,_ Hecate thought, berating her dream-addled mind for not reaching the conclusion sooner. This wasn’t a blizzard. This was the curse presenting itself in Mildred Hubble’s mind. The only question was, where was the girl herself?

 ‘Mildred Hubble!’ She shouted into the whiteness, her voice rising to a scream as she tried to make herself heard over the shrieking sound of the gale. ‘Mildred Hubble, where are you?’ Hecate tried to scan the distance, but she could scarcely open her eyes against the oncoming snow.

They wouldn’t have long, she realised.  A coven of witches as young as the 'Hair Raisers' could realistically hold the projected dream for an hour at best. Hecate held a hand up to her face, dropping to her knees in the vague hope that she could somehow discern a path, or way through the unending storm.

Hecate didn’t see a path. But she did see something half-buried by the snow, so white that it was close to being indistinguishable.

A child’s hand.

‘Mildred Hubble!’ Hecate grasped at the hand, but it was limp, and unresponsive. Despairingly, she began to dig around it, attempting to scrape away the snow with her long fingernails, but the ground was frozen over, invulnerable to her efforts.

No, but that wasn’t right, Hecate thought. This wasn’t real ground, it was a dream world – worse, a nightmare. This was Mildred rationalising herself succumbing to the curse.

_Well,_ Hecate thought, _that really won’t do at all_.

 

‘Mildred Hubble.’ She said, rolling the _r_ and inflecting the two _b_ s in the way she knew struck fear into the girl’s heart. ‘This is unacceptable behaviour. Witches do not bury themselves beneath snow; they face their problems head on. If you do not come out this instant, prepare to face the direst consequences.’

It was a long shot. Probably Mildred was already too weak to understand her – but the snow around her seemed to soften, and Hecate was able to scrape at it a little more until slowly, slowly, the girl began to emerge. Emboldened, Hecate carried on, now moving large chunks of ice away with her hands. As she did so, the storm seemed to increase in intensity, hail and snow hurling itself at her over and over again, as if conscious of her efforts to help the child. 

‘Quite frankly.’ She panted. ‘The whole affair is entirely your fault. If you were not constantly getting yourself into scrapes, you never would have found yourself in detention that day. If you give in now, I shall be more displeased than you can possibly know.’ Mildred was half out of the snow now, her eyes blinking awake as began to brush the ice away herself.

‘Miss Hardbroom?’ She asked in bewilderment, her voice barely there. ‘Where am I? What are we doing here?’ Hecate bit down on her lip to prevent herself from crying out with relief.

‘You, Mildred Hubble.’ She told her pupil, half near-hysterical and half severe, ‘Have given me more trouble in these two years than any other student _their entire time in the academy_. You have probably shortened my life by a decade with all the worrying I have to do about you, and if you ever make me feel even half of what I have felt over the past day again, I swear by the craft…’ She didn’t finish her sentence. Mildred Hubble flung her arms around her teacher, burying her face in Hecate's shoulder as her body shook with sobs.

‘You found me.’ She wept. ‘I thought I would…’ Hecate was at a loss as to what to do. She had felt on much safer territory assailing Mildred with constructive criticism over her tendency to get in to scrapes. Still, she patted her student warily, and then brought slow, hesitant arms around her.

‘Hush.’ Hecate told Mildred firmly. ‘There’s no time for all of this. You have a witch to defeat.’ Patting Mildred on the back one more time, she stood up and hauled the girl to her feet.

 

‘Right.’ Hecate said, brusquely. ‘You need to find Agatha Cackle, and quickly.’ Mildred frowned.

‘Why can’t you do it?’ Hecate gripped Mildred’s shoulder.

‘Mildred, where do you think we are?’ The girl looked around her, inquisitively.

‘Maybe Iceland?’ She said experimentally, hiccoughing a little on her tears. ‘Or Greenland, perhaps – but I’ve heard at this time of year it’s actually quite nice.’ At that last statement, Hecate had to close her eyes and take a deep breath.

‘We are _not_ in Greenland.’ She said, resisting the temptation to add _foolish girl_. ‘We are – to speak in hedge-witch’s terms - in your mind.’

‘In my mind?’ Mildred asked, puzzled.

‘Or rather, in your dreams, which are currently being amplified and projected by your coven. You’ve been placed under a curse, which you’ve interpreted as...a snowstorm.’

‘Oh.’ Mildred said, in a rather small voice. ‘Is that why it buried me?’ Hecate nodded.

‘I believe you were making sense of the attack the only way you knew how. The point is, whilst I can encourage you to act, I can’t in fact do anything here. I am but a guest. This is your imagination, Mildred.'

‘But what can I do?’ Mildred asked, voice wobbling. Hecate raised a tentative hand, with a mind to brushing away at Mildred’s tears with her thumb, but at the last moment faltered, and put it down awkwardly.

‘Well.’ She said, attempting to keep her voice light. ‘First thing’s first, I really must insist you get rid of this monstrous snow storm. I know some of the girls call me a human icicle, but this is simply ridiculous.’

‘But how?’ Mildred wiped away the last traces of her tears, until she was looking up at Hecate fiercely. ‘How can I banish the storm?’ Hecate bit her lip.

‘I…I don’t know.’ She admitted.

Then a fleeting memory came of being incredibly small, and a witch with dark curly hair and the scent of honeysuckle holding her close in the night.

‘When you are at home.’ She said, abruptly. ‘And you have a nightmare, what does your mother do?’

‘My mum?’ Mildred asked. ‘She – she gives me a hug, and...’

‘And…?’ Hecate prompted.

‘She tells me that it was only a dream.’ Mildred said slowly. ‘And she makes me say it too.’ Hecate straightened her back.

‘Well then.’ She said, imbuing her voice with all the firmness and reassurance she did not feel. ‘Concentrate, Mildred Hubble. This is only a dream. A powerful one, true, but still. It’s only a dream – but focus on the storm.’ She said, hastily. ‘You wouldn’t want to vanish me, too.’ Mildred nodded, and screwed her eyes tight shut, clenching her fist.

‘It’s only a dream.’ She muttered. The wind seemed to whip about them faster, the sound of the gale rising to a scream. Mildred’s voice rose with it, and Hecate placed her hands on the girls shoulders, willing her to continue. ‘It’s only a dream, it’s only a dream! It’s only a dream! IT’S ONLY A DREAM!’

* * *

 

As quick as blinking, as if the storm and blizzard had never existed, the two of them were standing in Mildred’s room. The girls were still standing around the bed, chanting, the silvery link held strong.

‘There.’ Hecate said, triumphantly. ‘Nothing but a dream.’ Mildred shook her head, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

‘I’m – I’m still cold.’ She chattered. ‘How can I still be cold? I…’ She was interrupted by the sound of a sob, and then another. The two witches turned, each looking for where the sound could be coming from.

Standing in the doorway were Miss Cackle and Julie Hubble.  Mildred’s mother looked as unlike herself as Hecate had ever seen; ashen grey and gripping on tightly to Miss Cackle’s hand.

 ‘Mum?’ Mildred said, bewildered. ‘Please don’t cry – I’m right here.’ She ran over to Ms. Hubble, who didn’t seem to register her presence.

 ‘How much longer?’ Julie whispered, brokenly. ‘How much longer can she keep fighting?’

 ‘It’s difficult to say.’ Miss Cackle said kindly, her eyes shining with compassionate tears. ‘But do not fret, Ms. Hubble. Those are the two most determined people I know on that bed. Between the two of them they’ll defeat my sister, somehow.’

 ‘Mum, Miss Cackle?’ Mildred's voice rose in panic as she looked between the two of them in dismay. Hecate crossed the room.

 ‘You’re still dreaming, Mildred.’ She said, softly. ‘You’re still under the curse. Nothing has changed, you’ve merely become more aware of the world around you. Look.’

She turned the girl around. Lying on the bed were the corporeal forms of herself and Mildred, Hecate's arms wrapped protectively around her student in sleep, a deep frown of concentration on her face. Mildred's breathing was now raspy and uneven once more, each breath sounding harder and more painful than the last.

‘You haven’t defeated Agatha's curse yet. Not while…’

 ‘Mildred Hubble.’

A silky voice seemed to reverberate around the room, and Hecate jumped about a foot in the air as a cloaked figure stepped out from where she had been lurking in the corner of the little bedroom. ‘You really have fought quite long enough, don’t you think?’

The figure pushed back her hood, and Agatha smiled cruelly as she revealed herself to the pair. There was a gleam in her eye as she began to advance towards them, looking for all the world like a cat with its paw on the tail of a struggling mouse, ready for the kill. 

Hecate instantly put herself in front of Mildred, and Agatha laughed delightedly.

 ‘Oh Hecate.’ She said in mocking tones. ‘Even as a figure in a dream you still have the audacity to imagine you can challenge me. But I am a player in this world. I can do things like this.’

 She jerked her head, and Hecate was flung against the wall like a rag doll.

It was all very well Mildred telling herself this was a dream, but when Hecate felt her ribs crack as she slammed against the hard stone, the pain felt all too real. Another curse hit Hecate squarely at the back of her head, and she tasted blood in her mouth as she fell to the floor.

‘Miss Hardbroom!’ She heard Mildred cry, as the girl ran to her.

 ‘Give it up, Mildred Hubble!’ Agatha cried. ‘Soon I shall meet my sister once more in the physical realm, you will die at my hand, and Hecate Hardbroom shall be left to rot in the dream world. I couldn’t have planned this better myself – and I didn’t!’

Hecate felt the girl’s hand on her back.

 ‘Miss Hardbroom are you alright?’ Hecate looked up at her pupil, saw all the fear and insecurity in her gaze, and realised with a sudden clarity that this was no time for leaving important matters unsaid. That there were some moments when things simply had to be articulated. And probably not just to Mildred either, Hecate reflected. Oh for the love of – trust Mildred Hubble and her ridiculously warm heart to make her come to such an unfortunately timed epiphany about her feelings for Pippa Pentangle.

 With that in mind, Hecate lifted a shaking hand to cup the girl’s cheek, her wrist screaming at her in agony.

 ‘Mildred.’ She said quietly. ‘I know you are tired, and ill, and have been drained beyond imagination by this – quite frankly ridiculously over the top – curse. But I also know that you are a deeply powerful and gifted witch. And, more importantly, I know that you are brave, and strong-minded, and can stand up to Agatha. Reach into yourself and find the words.’

 ‘But what do I do?’ Mildred asked in desperation.

 ‘Banish her.’ Hecate stood up slowly, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. ‘Find the words deep in your magic, and in the magic I’ve lent to you, too. Use every last reserve of it, everything you have, and banish Agatha.’

 ‘But I can’t.’ Mildred whispered. ‘I’m not nearly good enough for banishment spells yet.’ Hecate gripped her wrist.

 ‘For heaven’s sake, Mildred Hubble.’ She hissed, out of patience. ‘If you can convince _me_ – an austere and irritable woman bound hopelessly by tradition - that you are a witch of great talent and worth, then I don’t see in the least why you can’t convince yourself. Now, get rid of that god-awful woman. And, do so with all my support and trust behind you.’

 With that, Hecate’s legs really did give way, and she slumped against the wall, watching her student through heavy lidded eyes.

Mildred gave her teacher a determined nod, and brought herself up to her full height as she stood to face Agatha. Hecate saw the girl trembling like a leaf, and wished with all her heart there was something she could do to help her. But seeing Mildred’s fists clench determinedly, she thought perhaps she had.

 Mildred closed her eyes and bowed her head as she faced Agatha. Holding out her hands, she said slowly.

 ‘ _Rowan berry, iron cross,_

_Tear of adder, blood of moss.’_

Her head snapped up, her brown eyes lit from somewhere within. From her vantage point, Hecate could see the smile drop from Agatha’s face. She attempted to fire a spell at Mildred, but the girl seemed to anticipate it before the thought had fully finished forming in Agatha’s mind, and blocked it. Hecate held her breath. Mildred seemed to be taking control.

‘ _Rowan berry, iron cross,_

_Tear of adder, blood of moss._

_The darkest night must break with dawn,_

_I banish thee, Agatha…’_ Her chant was broken off, however, when Agatha fired a pitch black hex so powerful it knocked Mildred to the floor. The girl groaned, clutching at her side in pain.

 ‘Mildred!’ Hecate screamed. But Mildred’s voice, though faint, continued.

Hecate, however, could hear the breath of the real Mildred begin to rattle in her chest, knew that they had minutes at most.

  _‘Rowan berry, iron cross,_

_Tear of adder, blood of moss._

_To the darkest night the dawn must come,_

_I banish thee, Agatha - with the rising sun!’_

Hecate looked out of the window in astonishment. It was true, the first rays of light were trickling through the window, and falling on the sleeping Mildred’s face. And a bright, gold light burst from Mildred’s hands, countering the black magic coming from Agatha. Driving her away.

 ‘No!’ Agatha screamed. ‘No, Mildred Hubble. How can this be?’ Mildred didn’t answer her, only chanted one final time, a look in her eye that made Hecate feel as if she didn’t know her young student at all.

‘ _Rowan berry, iron cross,_

_Tear of adder, blood of moss._

_To the darkest night the dawn must come,_

_I banish thee, Agatha, with the rising sun!’_

 There was a bright flash of light that seemed to engulf the entire world, the shock of it almost drowning out Agatha’s screams. _Alright, Hecate_. She thought fiercely. _Wake up!_

* * *

 

Hecate came to her senses, felt the bed around her and the girl in her arms and the crowd of girls in the coven around them. She opened her eyes, gasping a little.

‘Miss Hardbroom?’

‘Remove the dream state!’ The teacher said fiercely, extracting herself from Mildred Hubble and getting to her feet, unsteadily. ‘Remove it, now!’ The coven dropped their hands, and the silvery light that had surrounded the bed disappeared.

 

For an awful, heart-stopping moment, it seemed as though Mildred Hubble had ceased to breathe entirely. Then all of a sudden, her breath came in a flurry, and the girl began to cough and tremble on the bed as her eyes fluttered open.

 ‘ _Millie_.’

Julie Hubble was across the room faster than Hecate could comprehend, cradling her daughter in her arms and quivering with unshed tears and the restraint of sobs that seemed as if they could wrack her entire body. Mildred still seemed too weak to move, but looked up at her mother and nodded with an infinitesimal motion. The room filled with the happy chatter of girls as the rays of the sun began to stream through the window, as Maud and Enid ran to Mildred’s bedside to stroke her hair and cry over her and tell her how frightened they had been. 

Hecate closed her eyes as she felt the link between herself and Mildred disappear once and for all. All the blood seemed to rush from her head, and she swayed alarmingly, only to be gripped by strong arms and led to sit in a chair.

‘There, Miss Hardbroom.’ Dimity said in a sure, calm voice. ‘She’s alright. You did it.’ Hecate nodded, weakly, eyes shut tightly as she gasped for breath, inhaling huge lungfuls of air. She knew, of course, that everything Agatha had done to her had been in the dream world, but she could still _feel_ it somehow.

She sensed Ada walking over.

 ‘Hecate.’ The older woman’s voice was thick with tears. ‘I don’t know what you could have done, but…’ Hecate shook her head and clasped Ada’s hand in her own.

 ‘It was all Mildred.’ With that, Hecate forced her eyes open to look at Mildred Hubble, who held her gaze, steadily. Exhaling in relief, Hecate nodded at the girl, who in turn closed her eyes again, nestling closer to her mum. The corners of Hecate’s mouth turned up in what on any other woman might be termed a smile.

 ‘Well then.’ She said, calmly. ‘Would you be so good as to transfer me to my rooms, Ada? I am still a little weak, and I feel as though I should inform Miss Pentangle of why one of her students was snatched from her bed overnight.’

Dimity looked between the two of them incredulously, evidently wondering how after a sleepless night saving their most accident-prone pupil, the first thought on Hecate’s mind could be _admin_ , but Ada nodded in understanding. 

‘Of course, Hecate.’ She smiled at the younger witch, squeezing her hand tight. ‘I think that is probably exactly what is needed.’ And with that, she waved her hands in a transference spell. 

* * *

 

Which was how Hecate found herself stumbling blindly around her chambers as every nerve and fibre in her body screamed at her to sleep, hands rummaging through her impeccably tidy desk until she found her mirror. She sat down heavily on her chair.

 ‘Pippa Pentangle.’ She instructed the mirror, gasping a little in exhaustion. ‘Call Pippa Pentangle.’

 It didn’t take long before Pippa’s face, a perfect mix of puzzlement and anger, appeared on the other side.

‘Hecate what on _earth_?’ Pippa cried. ‘Drusilla Paddock taken from her bed, no note or explanation? What could possibly have brought you to violate the code in this way?’

 Hecate tried to muster an answer. In the hours to come, she would find all sorts of explanations to justify to herself what happened next – the weight of explaining the events of the past twenty four hours, the relief after being near-paralysed by fear over the fate of Mildred Hubble – the _sheer exhaustion_ of having maintained a magical link with the girl for so long, of having to pretend to everyone that she was calm and in control, and knew exactly what she was doing.

 But in that moment, looking at Pippa’s concerned face and fully realising for the first time the strength of her feelings for this woman, Hecate’s face crumpled and she let out first one sob, then another, until for the first time since her teens Hecate was categorically crying her heart out. She wrapped her arms around her thin frame in an effort to contain the force of her long-repressed emotions, which now released seemed to take on a mind of their own as Hecate tried and failed to speak through her tears. She bent over herself, until she was sobbing practically into her knees.

 Time seemed to blur, one minute into the next, until she looked up to her open window and saw Pippa standing before her, face pinched in anxiety and fingers drumming a nervous pattern up and down her broom.

‘Hiccup.’ She said softly. ‘I came as quickly as I could.’ Discarding her broom and cloak, she knelt beside Hecate, gripping her hands and resting her head on Hecate’s lap. ‘There – it’s alright, my darling. Whatever has happened, it’s alright.’

 Hecate nodded, unable to speak, but running her hands through Pippa’s hair and thanking the Goddess for giving her this woman.

‘Pippa.’ She said at last, her voice choked and muffled. ‘Pippa, I – I love you. I’ve always loved you, since I was fifteen, before I could even articulate words that expressed what I felt. There’s never, ever been anyone else – I’m not even sure if there could be anyone else. It’s only ever been you, and I love you, Pipsqueak, I love you.’

Pippa was silent, and for a moment Hecate wondered if these words were too late, if her own wretched emotions had made Pippa wary…but she felt a trembling motion on her lap, and realised with a start that she was crying too. Pippa got to her feet, a little undignifiedly it must be said, and cupped Hecate’s face in her hands, kissing her over and over until Hecate was kissing her back with a fierce desperation, tangling her fingers in Pippa’s blonde hair.

‘I love you too, Hecate.’ Pippa said as she broke away, pressing her forehead against Hecate’s. ‘Have done since we were fourteen, actually, you ridiculous, impossible, _hopelessly repressed,_ brilliant, wonderful woman.’

Hecate nodded, gulping and choking on her tears. Pippa seemed not to be able to help herself as she laughed a little, perching on Hecate’s lap and placing delicate kisses where her tears were falling.

‘Dear me, Hiccup.’ She sighed, pushing Hecate’s hair, long and loose, away from her face. ‘What in the world prompted this?’ Hecate let out an extraordinary sound that was somewhere between a snort and a sob, and buried her head in Pippa’s shoulder.

‘Would you believe me’ She said, unable to keep herself from smiling. ‘if I told you it was Mildred Hubble?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a final chapter posted soon! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed xx


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter - and we're back to Mildred's pov...

When Mildred awoke, she knew she must have been asleep for a long time. Her arms and legs felt weak and spindly from lack of use, and she groaned, moving to sit up a bit.

Her mum was curled up in sleep on the chair next to her, a hand protectively clutching at Millie’s own, her face screwed in what Mildred recognised as her worried frown. She supposed she must have given her mum quite a fright with…well with whatever happened to her.

Mildred tried to piece together what happened after she had mirrored her mum, but everything seemed a blur, and remembering threatened to give her a headache. Rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand, she frowned a little. Had – had _Miss Hardbroom_ been there?

 

‘Ah, so you’re awake then.’

Mildred started. Miss Drill was standing in the doorframe, smiling at Mildred. ‘You didn’t half give us a scare.’

‘How long have I been asleep?’ Mildred wondered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Miss Drill came to sit on the side of her bed.

‘In total? About three days. But two since the curse was lifted.’ Mildred frowned.

‘What curse?’ She asked, heart fluttering. ‘I thought – I wasn’t just ill then?’ Miss Drill shook her head.

‘It’ll come back to you in bits, we think.’ She said, gently. ‘Agatha put you under a winter curse. It’s amazing you managed to fight it off as long as you did, but at one point things really did start to look bleak.’ Mildred tried to process what she had just been told.

‘Agatha.’ She said, slowly. Dimly, she remembered something – Miss Hardbroom peering at her anxiously, scraping away at snow. Miss Hardbroom being flung across the room, looking like a broken puppet, all crumpled on the floor.

‘Miss Hardbroom!’ Mildred’s eyes widened, and she attempted to get up, but Miss Drill caught her, easing Mildred back against her pillows.

‘Miss Hardbroom is absolutely fine.’ Miss Drill said, a smile playing on her face. ‘Granted, she has had a splitting headache for the past two days, but she _insisted_ that I tell you that no matter what you saw in the dream world, it has had no effect on her here.’ Mildred lay back on her pillows, exhaling.

‘Could I have a glass of water, please?’ Mildred asked. Dimity ruffled her hair, and got to her feet, pouring Mildred a glass.

‘You can have more than that.’ She announced, handing it to Millie. ‘Just look at what your friends have brought you.’

Mildred looked agape at her desk; absolutely loaded with treats. Maud and Enid seemed to have donated their entire tuck boxes; she could spot Maud’s mum’s famous cookies, and the Willy-Wonka like, brightly coloured treats that Enid always received from her absentee parents. There was even a box of the Hallows’ famous home-made fudge with a get-well-soon card from the three sisters. Perhaps most surprisingly, on the table was a gargantuan box of multifarious doughnuts. Mildred gasped.

‘Was Miss Pentangle here?’ She asked, excitedly.

‘She did pay a flying visit, as it happens.’ Miss Drill said. For reasons Mildred couldn’t quite fathom, Miss Drill seemed amused by this. ‘Wanted to pass on her thanks to you for some reason. Brought you these, too, from Pentangle’s gardens.’ For the first time, Mildred noticed a vase of pink roses on her bedside table. She fingered one, smiling.

‘That’s so lovely of her.’ She said, happily. ‘And nice for HB – I mean, Miss Hardbroom – to have her around if she’s not feeling very well.’ Miss Drill broke in to an inexplicable coughing fit – with the effect of startling her mum awake.

 ‘Oh my, I must have dropped off.’ She muttered.

 'Mum!’ Mildred didn’t think long enough to be embarrassed in front of Miss Drill, and reached over to hug her mum tightly. Her mum, for her part, climbed on to the bed and held Mildred in a way that made her think that she would never let her go.

‘Oh Millie.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t you ever put me through something like that again.’

‘I won’t, mum.’ Mildred reassured her, burying her face in her top. Over her shoulder, she heard her mum admonish Miss Drill,

‘What happened to waking me up if she came to?’

‘Oh, well excuse me for letting you get three hours sleep.’ Miss Drill retorted. But there was no anger in either of their tones, and when Mildred withdrew her face from her mum’s jumper, Miss Drill was smiling at them both.

‘Right then, Mildred.’ She said in a pleased sort of voice. ‘How do you feel?’ Mildred thought about it a second.

‘Still cold.’ She said, panic suddenly rising. ‘Does that mean I’m still cursed?’ Miss Drill shook her head.

‘It was very dark magic you were under.’ She said, gently. ‘The effects will take a while to wear off, that’s all. But Miss Bat and Mr Rowan-Webb have been researching, and it seems the best way for you to get better is plenty to eat and drink, warmth, sunshine, and bed-rest. And about six different potions, taken twice a day, of course, but Miss Hardbroom is taking care of that.’

‘Of course, I’d happily have you at home for a bit, Millie…’ Mum began, but Mildred cut her off.

‘But then I’d get even more behind!’ She looked anxiously at Miss Drill. ‘I’ve already missed nearly a week of work!’

‘You’re not to worry about that.’ Miss Drill said firmly. ‘We’re going to help you catch up over the holidays. You’re to take it slow, for now. But your mum agrees’ With that she cast a slightly threatening look at her mum, ‘That as you’re going to be on quite a strict potion regimen, it’ll be easier for nurse to look after you here.’ Mildred nodded, relieved.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to be at home, mum.’ She mumbled. Tiredness was beginning to creep up on her again, and she settled her head back on the pillows, eyes flickering shut.

‘I know, poppet, don’t worry about me. Worry about getting better.’ Mildred yawned, and sleepily nodded her assent.

Before she drifted off, her mum stroking her hair gently, Mildred thought she heard the _whoosh_ of sound she normally associated with transference, and the sound of hesitant high-heeled boots on the floor. Smiling to herself, Mildred slipped once more into sleep.

 

* * *

 

After that, her days passed in much the same way. Miss Tapioca would feed her bowls of thick, creamy porridge for breakfast, and hearty stews for lunch and dinner that grew in size every day (and woe betide Mildred if she didn’t finish them, despite her stomach having shrunk to the size of an apple.) Notwithstanding her usual commitment to toughening the girls up on a diet of inedible food, faced with the opposite challenge of fattening Millie up when she didn’t want to eat, she seemed to take great pride in producing one delectable meal after another.

Mildred would then do what she could of her schoolwork in bed, before Miss Drill or Mr Rowan-Webb would arrive to take her outside to soak up the sunshine – if there was any. On days when there was none, Mildred would be summoned down to Miss Cackle’s study to sit in her blankets in front of the roaring fire there, where Miss Cackle fed her toasted crumpets smothered in butter and honey, and helped her do the remainder of her schoolwork.

Millie felt a little embarrassed by how much the teachers were spoiling her, but when she tried to stammeringly explain this to Miss Cackle, the teacher waved her away.

‘Don’t be silly, dear.’ She said, kindly. ‘I think the whole of Cackle’s wants to see you better. You wouldn’t _believe_ how dull it’s been without the little scrapes you get into.’

Maud and Enid were with her every day in the evenings to regale her with stories and get through the pile of doughnuts that would have inevitably materialised by her bed that day -whatever Mildred had done that Miss Pentangle was grateful for, it was evidently a gift that kept on giving. Clarice, Sybil and Beatrice would often come by too, and make so much noise that after fifteen minutes the nurse, now back from her conference, would usually come up and tell them to either button it or get lost. (Julie Hubble approved of her nursing technique.)

Even Ethel came up to apologise, and spent a few minutes in awkward silence before spotting a pile of schoolwork of Millie’s.

‘Let’s see then, Mildred Hubble.’ She examined it, tutting. ‘No, no – Enid’s explained that quite wrong.’

Mildred doubted Ethel’s new-found friendliness would last. But while it did, she was an incredibly useful friend to have, particularly when it came to explaining tricky concepts in spell science.

 

The only person she hadn’t seen was Miss Hardbroom. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She sensed Miss Hardbroom’s presence by her doorway most nights, and knew she would be looking in to check on Mildred, but to preserve her teacher from embarrassment she would usually pretend to be asleep or engrossed in a book, rather than calling her out. Marked work would appear by her desk, (with increasingly less criticism since Ethel had started stopping by her room) but still the witch remained distant from Mildred.

It didn’t overly concern Millie, now perfectly cognisant of everything that had gone on while she had been under the curse. HB would come out when she was ready. Still, a week had passed, and no Miss Hardbroom.

And… and sometimes she was tempted to call out to her teacher. Everyone else around her was so kind, so understanding of how long it was taking for the curse to wear off – and she didn’t want to make them any more worried than they already were. So she didn’t tell Maud, or Enid, or her mum or any of her teachers about how some days, she would have an attack of the shivers and lie curled up on her bed, feeling as though she would never be warm again. How she had tried a warming spell the other day and it had sputtered out like a candle in her hand, and how she worried that even with all the help she was getting that the curse had damaged her powers for good. How on more than one night she had woken up in a cold sweat, eyes frantically searching the corner of her room for Agatha, fighting sleep in remembrance of how it had felt to be unable to open your eyes as your life slipped away like sand in an hourglass.

And it was strange, Mildred admitted to herself, to want to tell these things to _Miss Hardbroom_ of all people. But on the nights when the spectre of Agatha’s presence seemed to haunt her waking, she remembered Miss Hardbroom’s brisk, no nonsense tone, and felt a little braver.

 

* * *

  

One gloriously sunny day, she was finishing off a drawing of Tabby (who had become so protective of Millie since the curse that some days it was hard to extract herself from him,) when she heard Miss Drill running up the stairs.

Miss Drill was approaching Mildred’s convalescence with the vigour and determination only a P.E. teacher could bring.

‘Right then, Miss Hubble.’ She said, rubbing her hands and jogging on the spot. ‘Let’s get moving, shall we?’ Mildred nodded, clambering off of her bed. ‘How are those legs?’

‘Still like cotton wool.’ Millie said, pulling a face.’ Miss Drill chuckled.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be doing laps around the grounds again before you know it. Mildred attempted to muster a smile.

‘That’s…great, Miss Drill.’ She said, trying not to show her lack of enthusiasm.

They had a routine now. Mildred would walk down two flights of stairs, and then Miss Drill would piggyback her the rest of the way down. They would then walk as far around the grounds as Mildred was able, and then when she got tired, Miss Drill would practice her witchball whilst Millie did her school work in the sun. (When it was Mr Rowan-Webb’s turn, it usually involved a trip to the pond, as he subscribed firmly to the theory that she could shake off the remainder of the cold spell by re-embracing her days as a cold-blooded amphibian. Needless to say, Julie Hubble did not approve of Mr Rowan-Webb’s nursing technique.)

 

This time, however, they reached the bottom of the stairs – their fastest time yet, no less - to find the tall and rather imposing figure of Miss Hardbroom at the entrance, her expression inscrutable. Mildred scrambled down from Miss Drill’s back.

‘Miss Drill, Mildred Hubble.’ She said, curtly. ‘I thought I might take Mildred for a turn about the herb garden.’

‘That’s a wonderful idea, Miss Hardbroom.’ Miss Drill said brightly – and perhaps, as Mildred later thought, with more than a little smugness. ‘Shall I cover your class?’

‘If you would be so kind.’ Miss Drill nodded.

‘Alright, then. See you soon, Mildred.’ She squeezed Millie’s shoulder, and then left the two of them to it. Mildred glanced up at her unfathomable teacher - who inclined her head towards the garden.

‘Shall we?’

 

* * *

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, as Mildred warred with herself whether to start the conversation, or allow the buttoned-up potion’s mistress time to speak herself.

‘You are better.’ It was a statement, not a question, and Mildred nodded.

‘I’m better.’ She said slowly, hesitantly. All of a sudden, she had a strange urge to tell her formidable form mistress everything she had kept secret from the anxious faces of her friends and her mum and the other teachers. But she shook her head. There would be time, later. Instead, she said conversationally.

‘I haven’t seen you in ages, Miss Hardbroom.’ She sneaked a quick glance up at her teacher, who visibly stiffened.

‘I have had…pressing matters to attend to, Mildred Hubble, that do not permit me to fritter away the hours in your bedroom.’

Mildred frowned, but didn’t say anything. If Miss Hardbroom wanted to pretend that she didn’t spend most evenings lurking outside Mildred’s room, she could be like that. As they continued walking, however, Miss Hardbroom said in a much softer voice,

‘And, I suppose, I was somewhat…ashamed.’ The last part came out strangled, and Mildred blinked in astonishment.

‘Ashamed? Of what?’ Hecate met Mildred’s eyes then, for the first time.

‘You don’t have to be - nice.’ She said, in a rather shaky voice. ‘If I hadn’t been so strict with you, you wouldn’t have ended up alone with Agatha.’

‘But I deserved that detention.’ Mildred said, indignantly. ‘I forgot my potions homework – well, actually blew it up more like…’

‘And.’ Hecate said, continuing as if uninterrupted. ‘I took out my anger on you in potions class that morning. I didn’t listen to you when you told me you were ill – for all we know, my actions accelerated the onset of the curse.’

 

Mildred looked up at HB in amazement as she broke off – was this really her forbidding teacher sounding almost…well, almost a little tearful? ‘I suppose what I wished to say, and haven’t been able to bring myself to for the past week, is…I’m sorry, Mildred Hubble.’  They walked in silence for a bit, as Mildred digested her teacher’s apology, and looked away long enough for Miss Hardbroom to wipe away any stray tears, should she need to.

Then, Mildred did something so bold and so unprecedented that she thought there was a good chance she might be smited on the spot for her impudence. She took Miss Hardbroom’s hand in her own.

‘Miss Hardbroom, if you don’t mind my saying so, that’s absolutely ridiculous.’ Mildred said, kindly but firmly, as if she was reassuring Sybil after a failed potion. ‘You _found me_ – in the snow. Before you came, before I heard your voice – I honestly thought I was going to be lost in there forever. And then you made me see that I could fight back against Agatha. You shouldn’t be apologising to me – I should be thanking you.’

She skipped forward a little, so that she was facing her teacher head on.

‘And as for that morning in potions – well it was a Friday, wasn’t it? If I had been allowed to muddle through class without anyone knowing I was ill, then I could have fallen under Agatha’s power without you realising, couldn’t I? For all we know, you being so mean that morning saved my life. So thank you. I really, honestly mean it.’

 

Miss Hardbroom seemed to struggle for words then.

‘Mildred Hubble.’ She said eventually, her voice soft. ‘You really are…’ She trailed off. Mildred squeezed her hand, and then let it go.

‘That’s alright, Miss.’

‘I would like…to start afresh, perhaps.’ Miss Hardbroom said, looking down at Mildred seriously. Mildred grinned.

‘That would be cool.’ She said, trying not to display her mirth. She had a feeling this new leaf Miss Hardbroom was turning over would last until the next catastrophe Mildred would inevitably find herself at the centre of. ‘But to be honest, you don’t _need_ to, Miss H. I kind of like you just the way you are.’ She patted an awkward Miss Hardbroom on the arm. ‘Besides, Nurse says I’m well enough to come back to classes for the last week of term. So you’ll have to tell me off then.’ Miss Hardbroom stilled, but then the corners of her mouth quirked up, and she let out a dry chuckle.

‘Yes, I suppose I will.’ She said, regarding Mildred with what, even with the greatest respect for Miss Hardbroom, could only be termed as fondness. Mildred straightened her shoulders.

‘Well then.’ She said briskly, sounding an awful lot like HB herself, she thought. ‘While we’re actually in the herb garden, would you mind giving me a bit of help with the healing potion classwork? See, Maud did try to explain it, but I didn’t really understand…’ And the two of them went off, walking side by side together.

 

 Mildred was right, there would be time. Time, in the many future walks around the grounds, for her to haltingly explain her fears and anxieties, for them to be dissected and analysed by Miss Hardbroom until some of the weight off her chest was lifted. Time too, in the months to come for Miss Hardbroom to find Mildred attempting to conjure heating spells in corners of the castle, and to give her detention, but also to bring her back to her study and make her tea that warmed Mildred on the days when the cold returned and it seemed as though she would never shake it off. Time for Miss Hardbroom’s study to feel like the only safe place in the world. To wake up from a catnap  on one of her teacher’s armchairs, in the dappled sunlight of an afternoon following a sleepless night, and find HB still with her, marking papers.

But for now, there were two stubborn, headstrong women, walking the circumference of the garden, coming to a better understanding of one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you so so much to everyone who read/commented/left kudos on this. I hope it was an enjoyable read - and please leave a comment if you liked it! I have exams coming up, so probably won't post anything else until June, but will definitely write more TWW fic in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought in the comments below.


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